


I Know

by ChocolateChipFic (Leigh_B)



Series: Momvellan and Papa!Franken!Solas [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Feynites TDWH AU fandom
Genre: Double yikes., F/M, Feynite's Fandom, Franken!Solas - Freeform, Halani Tries So Hard, I wouldn't go noncon... just a warning up here in the tags for maybe vague noncon though, Liberties taken with LG shapshifting info., Maybe vague noncon, Momvellan - Freeform, Papa!Franken!Solas - Freeform, Poor Franken!Solas, Poor Halani, Yikes, and they are both totally down for the kissing, fanfic of a fanfic, it's just a kiss, kinda', not really - Freeform, tdwh au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leigh_B/pseuds/ChocolateChipFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could kiss him. She wants to kiss him. Why not? What could go wrong with sharing an intense kiss with your Old God grab-bag of a beloved? Nothing, right? Yeah... probably nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feynite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/gifts).



> I don't even know. This is probably the longest fic I've ever written for a kiss scene. Seriously though. Why even have I done this thing to you?

Even after they publicly acknowledge that their courtship has become a betrothal, they avoid intimacy. That is not to say that they do not touch one another. Whenever Solas is in her proximity, Halani comfortably initiates all sorts of casual brushes and pets. She is particularly fond of looping an arm through his, then leaning her hip against his upper thigh while tucking her face into his shoulder. This is the position she often takes when the two observe one of their daughter’s lessons or demonstrations. If he is in the shape of a wolf, she tangles her fingers in the thick fur around his neck and sets her weight against his nearest wither.

Solas is very quick to offer tactile affection. Certainly their daughter demands hugs, pats, and kisses at every turn, but he has never abstained from exhibiting physical interest and ministrations to Halani herself. Even in the presence of his generals and advisers, he rarely bothers to refrain from pressing a kiss to her knuckles or going out of his way to keep near to her person. He has expressed physical desire for her, and she for him. They sometimes sleep in the same bed, though Halani typically occupies the wing of the palace that she shares with their daughter. In spite of easily bestowing sentiments as well as affection, the two have yet to pursue sexual acts.

She knows intellectually why she has delayed such aspects of their relationship. It has precious little to do with their daughter’s presence. Solas’ lack of interpersonal skills and disregard for the things he considers unimportant served to distance them initially, and Halani never quite invented a way to incorporate sex into their rapport. At least, she hadn’t thought of a way she could initiate being sexual with him while they were first going about cultivating what was to be between them. Now, however, she wonders if this absence of sex is a holdover from the days when she’d still thought of him the personified deity of nightmares.

She’s certainly comfortable touching him and being in his space at this point. She wants to be with him, in all connotations of that sentiment. And why not?      

When they are alone together in his private rooms, Solas sheds his abrasive layers of armor and wanders around in soft pants and comfy-looking tunics that she attempts to steal from him. Her efforts would be more than attempts… if only she could find where he keeps the damn things. She does her best to take advantage of the moments when there is no risk of nicking herself on his attire.

This evening, he is at his desk, and she has pulled her favorite seat up beside him with a book in hand. One of her legs splays over his lap, weaved through one sturdy arm of his desk chair and braced against the inside corner of the other. She’s curled her other leg up beneath herself. Halani lowers the book down in her lap, and ponders the warmth seeping up from the tops of his thighs and settling into underside of her leg. In spite of feeling quite comfortable, the itching desire to start slowly rubbing her leg back and forth bubbles up in her hip and behind her knee. She denies it, and glances between the complicated sketch he is working on and the look of concentration on his face. Her eyes catch on his hands as she openly admires him.

His graceful, tapered fingers are stained by the soft grade of lead in his hold. The gray has accumulated so heavily on the thumb, index, and middle fingers he uses to grip the utensil, that it has created a shiny film of lifeless pallor against the freckled and pale tone of his skin. She watches intently as he darkens a portion of the drawing. All of his movements seem curiously birdlike and decisive, quick and tidy despite the messy medium with which he works. After repeating the same gruff stroke over one area of the paper several times, he pauses. His partially curled fist flattens, upending the lead and loosely balancing it between his fingers and over the back of his thumb. The pad of his middle finger dips suddenly. It whispers over the dry page as he spreads granules from particularly concentrated areas to lighter ones in need of shading. He retracts the touch, beginning to tick his thumbnail against the lead after a few seconds of contemplation. He freely allows his sense of dissatisfaction to sizzle in the air around him. She does not need to look up at his face to know that he is appraising his work harshly, with that steely glint in his eye.

She looks up anyway.

It startles her sometimes, to see how pretty he is.

It’s strange.

Solas is an odd mixture of excruciatingly sharp structural features swathed in plush lips, full-crested cheeks, and freckles. Some of his characteristics, while not immediately indicative of conventionally attractive attributes, blend so well with one another that she finds her admiration of his countenance grows with each good look at him.

He makes the decision to switch to a different grade of lead. She catches the look of betrayal he shoots down at the one in his hand before beginning to turn his face toward the case of sketching supplies. It is beside the elbow she is resting on the desk’s surface. When he shifts his attention toward her side of the desk, it lands on her before the art supplies.

She stares evenly into his questioning gaze. He is neither irritated nor concerned. They are comfortable enough in one another’s space that neither of them feel that there is any awkwardness in their looking at one another. She is relieved by this, and it encourages her to begin rounding out her blueprint for their next few minutes of interaction.

She continues to watch him as his brows slowly migrate north. His eyes widen expectantly, and she catches the sparks of interest he flicks toward her. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth when he lets out an impatient sigh, places the lead back into the case, and initiates verbal communication.

“Yes?” he prompts.

She blinks at him. An unexpected burst of bashfulness swells inside of her, and she attempts to hide it behind mischief. She has not felt so shy when trying to kiss someone since the fumbling endeavor of a first kiss she’d thrown at a fellow hunter _many_ years ago. Halani makes a show of slowly moving her eyes from one of his facial features to another, allowing them to come to rest on his lips. There is a displeased tilt to the left side of his mouth. It is the same side that perks up when he smirks or tries to suppress a smile, and she is interested to note that it is also the side that tugs downward before the other.  

“My heart?” he prods at her again.

Halani’s eyes dart up. “Solas…” she begins, then sifts through the words she’d pasted together moments before.

“Yes?” He is relieved that she has spoken. A sense of laxity eases back into the emotions he projects. It replaces the sudden spike of irritation that had cropped up in her silence.

“I have just realized,” she says, flicking her gaze back up to his eyes before conspicuously dropping it down to his mouth again. “That I have never kissed you.”

She retracts the leg flung over his lap, catching the nearest arm of the chair with her foot and tugging. He is facing her directly by the time she scoots her own seat closer to him. Her book is abandoned on the desk.  

“Oh,” she says lightly. “I have kissed your cheeks. And your hands. And your ears…”

She places a knee between his, setting her weight against the edge of his chair as she leans forward. Her eyes are still on his mouth, but she catches the returning tilt of his body. His knees widen further apart. His emotions pluck at her, interest and impatience all but smothered beneath a sudden wash of heady eagerness. Halani is already walling up her own sentiments behind an aloof sense of curiosity for the sake of teasing, but she is careful to strongly mask the more potent intentions that these actions stir. Tonight is only a kiss.

Only a kiss.  

She extends her delay. “I’m sure that I’ve kissed your shoulder at some point, though I don’t exactly recall.”

“You have,” he supplies politely, remaining still as she tucks her other leg against the outside of his knee. His limb is now caught between both of her own.  

“And your nose.” She runs a thumb over the bridge of the aforementioned feature. “Or snout, rather. You were in the shape of a wolf at the time, and I’m not entirely sure which word is more appropriate.”

The left side of his mouth quirks. “That is an irrelevancy.”

She hums, brushing her hand down across his cheek. The tips of her fingers curl around the crook of his jaw. His emotions are withdrawn in an instant, pulled taught around his person. Solas fully obscures them from her before moving forward. He eases to a stop so close that their noses are touching and his breath fans her lips, warm and thick with moisture. He attempts to slide his knee up with his advance, but she catches him by clenching her legs together.

Halani takes a moment to mentally commend his tactic. Where she had expected him to lack the social ability to be anything but either responsive or disinterested, it would seem that he had a hand to play as well. His decision to move so close served to tempt her away from continued procrastination as well as force her to abandon her method of staring down at his mouth.

He smells of the mint drink and cookies they shared with their daughter before tucking her into bed.

She looks at his eyes, studying the interplay of blue, gray, and a curious roil of dull purple near to his pupil before actually meeting his stare. ”I suppose you’re right, my love.” Her words are breathy and quiet, hushed by the growing excitement in her chest and between her thighs. “Observing the names for the facial anatomy of your various forms has little to do with the fact that we have never shared a proper kiss.”

He snorts softly, giving his head the mildest shake. It rubs their noses together. He shifts then, and she feels the muscles in his neck tense as though he means to kiss her. She pulls back a fraction, stilling him with the threat of her withdrawal. A cheeky grin tugs her lip up.

“Ah.” She makes the nonverbal sound in a chiding tone.   

He huffs, the harsher release of breath puffing cool air over her lips. “Are you going to kiss me,” he asks hurriedly, “or am I going to kiss you?”

It would seem that the majority of his patience was spent in the opening play. He’s hasty now, disinterested in banter. She smiles at him, relenting.

The hand she’s kept poised on the edge of his jaw slips forward. She cradles the column of his neck, stroking her thumb along the area in front of his ear. His pulse jumps in her palm. She moves her other hand to position it similarly on the according side of his face. Halani holds him there for a moment, careful to meet his stare.

“Just a kiss, my heart.” She states her parameters clearly, mindful of his need for obvious boundaries.

He is straining against her hold. It is a quiet struggle, the force he exerts barely enough to note as anything beyond an expression of enthusiasm.

“A kiss,” he repeats.

“Only a kiss…” she prompts, wanting to be sure to have his agreement.

He nods.

She moves near, tucking her nose off to the side of his and matching the hold of his mouth. Their lips are barely together, only the sharp protrusion from the bow in his upper lip and the widest curve of his lower brush against hers. She waits there for a moment more, cookies and mint drink and excitement.

Halani pulls his face closer to hers, first offering only the most chaste of kisses. Their mouths are symmetrically placed over one another, and she pushes her lips against his. The kiss is withdrawn after only few seconds. She feels short of breath, and attempts to quietly heave some air into her lungs. A sigh escapes her, softly easing some of the lightheadedness that had cropped up.

Breathing is important.

Mustn’t forget to breathe.

She begins another mild kiss, allowing it to linger just as long as the last before angling her mouth up. She holds his pretty, bowed upper lip between hers. Halani lets go again, breaking the seal of their lips but not moving away. When she returns, it is to deepen the kiss. She still concentrates on his upper lip, drawing it in and releasing it a few times. She skirts the tip of her tongue along one edge of his lip before he moves. He had responded to her kiss with soft nudging and the occasion pressure of returning her initial press. Now, he wraps a hand around the base of her skull. He grips the nape of her neck, pushing their faces together more firmly before pulling her lower lip into his mouth and running his teeth over it.

Halani shivers. His teeth are sharper than they should be, and she feels the distinctive elongation of claws tipping his fingers. Uneasiness slams into her gut, and she decides that it is probably best to stop while they are ahead. Her intentions are to tactfully pull away, but she finds that she cannot. His hold traps her, and she is suddenly reminded of the many circumstances in which he has outplayed her. He opens on offerings of sweetness, then closes in around her like a patient, carnivorous plant while she frolics in empty nectar. What’s most upsetting about these instances is that Halani never recalls them until it is too late. They are evenly spread through the ebb and flow of her conceited moments of belief, thinking that she understands him completely, and the frightening moments when she contemplates what, exactly, her Solas is really made of.

Or rather _who_ he is made of.   

She sits limply in the kiss, reaching up to tap against his forearm like a wrestler pinned to the mat. He had begun to pull away as soon as she stopped participating in their affection, which she notes as a positive development learned from this endeavor. Nevertheless, it seems as though actually releasing her was taking more effort than it should. He lingers, so close that their lips are still touching.

“Solas?” Halani tries to gently push him back some. It is an exercise in futility, and so she sets a hand on each of his shoulders and shoves him. Hard.

He absorbs the impact of her push and glides back as though of his own volition until he is resting against the rails of his desk chair, eyes looking dazed. The blue has been glazed over by the coppery yellow tone that she associates with his foul tempers. Halani was right about the claws. However, looking down at them, she identifies the wickedly curved appendages as being more reminiscent of talons. His mouth is open, and he is panting softly. His teeth are not cut like they are when such aspects of his wolf peek into his elvhen shape. They are needles, starting with thick bases that taper into shrill points. It looks as though every tooth in his mouth is sharp.

It is clear that the shape of the dragon he can take has curiously slipped into partial being. Halani has never seen him do this, and she promptly decides that she is not a fan. He is the only shapeshifter she has ever known to pick and choose features of various forms and blend them together for both aesthetic and pragmatic benefit. She assumed that it was done with the absolute control and concentration that it took for her to slip into other shapes.

It would seem that her understanding of this practice is little more than another empty hypothesis that she used to grant herself a false sense of security. That is, unless her kiss had left him wanting to tear her to shreds with dragon’s teeth and talons. Her gaze sticks to the reptilian fangs that had been on her lips just moments before, and she is greatly disturbed.

Solas is still staring at nothing, unblinking in the glassy way that unnerves her so. She means to snap him out of it. While this might not prove to be the best time to discuss what has just happened and why it isn’t okay, she would still like to ask him if he’s alright.

“Solas?” she ventures. “My heart?”

His gaze snaps into focus on her own. The suddenness and intensity of his attention makes Halani jump. She watches as his eyes darken back into the calm blue that she is accustomed to seeing. He closes his mouth over his strange teeth. The buzz of his magic hisses around them as he reverts to his usual shape.

“I am sorry, my heart,” he says. “I do not know entirely what came over me. I hope that you are not frightened terribly.” His eyes meet hers once more, a contrite grimace stretching his face in a frowning wince. He lets a dejected sense of remorse weigh down the air between them. “I can feel that you are frightened. That was not-" he sighs. “That has never been my intention.”

“I know,” she soothes, tentatively covering his newly rounded fingertips with her own. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, always, to those who read and have been reading my Momvellan stuffs <3 Special thanks for the stupendous creative wonder that is Feynite~!


End file.
